No Living Room 2.0: Still Young, Less Restless, and More Hippied Out Than Ever Before!

And now, to make a long story short, an equation:

Salem, OR
+

=

Yep, you got that right. A palm tree. In Sacramento, California, baby. We'd had enough of the abysmal northwest weather and decided not to waste our time or our money putting up with it. So we bought ourselves three tickets and hopped on to the next Amtrak south. They even let us ship our bikes on the train! We had to take them apart just a bit.



Of sixteen hours traveling, 2.5 were during daylight hours. When we arrived in Sacramento at 5:45 in the morning we didn't quite know what to do with ourselves, quite literally. So we just sort of put our bikes back together and rode around.



It was still early, but we were able to steal enough internet from the closed Sacramento Public Library for long enough to email some people last-minute about possible Couchsurfing options.


Unfortunately, we found none before it was beginning to get dark, so we checked into a very cheap hotel (oh well!).


Next morning, we mixed up sommathat delicious dried potato soup Patti gave us in Seaside, and figured out just what route we should take to get to Pittsburgh by the end of that day, where the Generous Joe had told us we could crash at his place.



Another twelve o'clock check-out, and we were off.



First through the city...



...past Arnold's house...

...then along the surging Rio Vista. In the first 25 miles, I think we gained about 16' in elevation.



A short set-back:


repaired.


Also, we rode past a Chevy Avalanche that had evidently been through some serious physical trials. It was connected to a tow truck beside the river, and water was still dripping down the sides and from the bottom. The weird parts were the handcuffs dangling from one of the handles inside, and the diver we saw gearing up just a couple hundred feet down the road - mob hit?




That was weird.

We just started this new thing where we will buy a container of peanut butter, a container of jam, and a loaf of bread, make eight or nine PB&J's, and put them all back into the bread bag. Makes for very good picnics, and the peanut butter and jam lasts for several loafs!



Mmm. Twelve-grain.

And the report comes tonight from Pittsburgh, California. Today's miles: a whopping 74! We actually spent a couple of hours riding in the dark there toward the end, which was not so pleasant. But we didn't take any pictures of it, so it's sort of like it never happened. Tomorrow's agenda: bike, BART, and Sisco! Don't touch that dial, folks, things're aboutsta get crazy up in here! CraziER that is!

Nat for Dav Rd Rd 12

We have a confession to make: we've sort of cheated. A little. But it's so cold up here, and buses are so much faster!

So here's what's going on. Or, rather, what has gone on.

We took a series of buses on Thursday that got us from Aberdeen, WA to Seaside, OR, where we lived it up for two days with the venerable Dave and Patti Steen in an authentic oceanside resort - we're talkin' concierge, elevators, gift shop, and multiple hot tubs with lights in the bottom that change colors. Patti did an exemplary job of plumping us up, and sent us on our way Saturday morning with our saddlebags overloaded with all kinds of edible goods.

When the bus dropped us off in Tillamook later, we rode twenty-two miles to Cape Lookout State Park. We later learned that thirteen of those miles were unnecessary, as was the thousand-foot ascent and subsequent descent back to sea level. Oh well. We ring our sweaters out and move on.

One day, two meals, one bag of jelly beans, zero showers, and thirty-three miles later, we were letting ourselves into a cozy house in the town of Otis, just north of Lincoln City. It wasn't long before its owner, Corrina, arrived home from a mushroom-gathering day-trip with her boyfriend Tony. Soon, aromas were wafting, guitars were singing, and friendships were quickly being formed. We ate freshly-gathered mushroom alfredo, and sat around jammin' out on banjo, guitar, piano, and mandolin. Gooood night.

Today is windy. So instead of us riding fifty miles to stay overnight in Salem, Tony volunteered to give us a ride in his pick-up tomorrow (Thanks, dude!), which gave us time for a good, old-fashioned hike! I would describe it to you, but a photo-video montage is really the best way to go for this one.

Wind, wind, wind. If we're not careful, it looks like it might blow us right on down to Sacramento. Stay tuned

An Historic Change of Title, Explained

You may have noticed that we've changed the name of our blog/Facebook group. That's because we didn't really like the old one. Don't get us wrong - The Betterment Project is still very much alive. But we decided it's not the most appropriate title of our adventure. We just think it sounds weird. We don't want anyone to run off with the idea that we're getting too carried away with the idea that we think we're bettering ourselves too much. We think that would seem a little too... pretentious? Showy? Whatever the adjective, we hope you like our new title.

Twelfth Anniversary Photo Celebration!

Stephen and I both just furrowed our brows and counted days on our fingers, coming to the conclusion that today is in fact only the twelfth day since we rode down my parent's driveway. It seems as though it could be twelve years. All the folks we've met already seem like old friends, I've already begun exaggerating our triumphs into near tall-tales, and we seem to catch ourselves daily reminiscing about the comforts of our old lives. I know it hasn't been very long, and we've only barely traveled the height of one state, (one we've traveled several times over behind car glass) but it feels as though we've been through different worlds. The Olympic Peninsula, seen from the seat of a bicycle, is the largest piece of earth I've ever attempted to understand. The rolling forest never cares about how tired you may be, it continues for portions of infinity between tiny logging towns I've never heard of, filled with the most interesting, kindhearted folks I've ever met.
Two nights ago we crossed that massive bridge into Astoria and out of Washington (Mike and Stephen wildly attempting to hold their breaths the distance(we were in a bus, thank God)). Already it seems we've crossed massive expanses of land and left a great deal behind.

Mike and I finally got a couple rolls of film developed. I now present this terrific mess of overdue photographs in as close to chronological order as I can manage:

This was our first real glimpse of Discovery Bay from Hwy 20 out of Port Townsend. We were here for half an hour tuning bikes, snapping photos and generally congratulating each other on how good our new lives were. This was only a few miles before we reached 101 and learned to blast our iPods to drown out the relentless roar of traffic.

The same place. The sun shining on Mikey at one of the first really serene stops on an unfathomably long road.

About ten miles out of Sequim on Hwy 101, we reach the top of miles of windy, climbing road ending us up on a bluff hundreds of feet above Discovery Bay. This was our first taste of treacherous road. It was also where we realized no hill was impossible to climb. We were ecstatic when we discovered our reward of two crazy miles of steep downhill landing us right at the base of Sequim Bay State Park.

Stephen conveniently had a flat tire just as we rolled past Mike's Bikes in Sequim. We spoke to a couple locals here who told us our plans were ridiculous considering the coming storm. They gave us new maps, new directions and new ideas. The ordeal had a strange aroma of divine intervention.

Mike and I wait out further bike troubles on the stoop of a family practice on a Sequim side street.

We stop for a stretch break on 101 on the cusp of Port Angeles.

This is on the far side of Port Angeles as were learning to live our lives in the rain. This was the first really cold day. You can see the snow line in the hills down the road.

Hwy 112 rattles high above the Elwha river, whose green basin is speckled with glowing deciduous trees, covered in smoke from hidden chimneys.

Mike and Stephen catch up on letters and journals as our laundry tumbles in the Joyce Laundromat. The rain still coming down outside, our plans for the night still tentative.

I couldn't sleep at our Salt Creek campsite (partly due to the raccoons ravaging our pots and pans all night) so I rose early to find nearly fifty surfers already in the water. They're the tiny black specks arcoss the bay. Maybe you can't see them. These guys are serious.

Our new friends Andy and Kris let us stay in the beautiful studio above their garage six miles west of Joyce. We all decided we could have lived there forever. We were deep in the woods, the Strait of Juan de Fuca just below our windowsill.

This, I think, is the favorite stretch of riding so far. The rooty, leafy hiking trail around Lake Crescent escaped the trees for a second as the sun busted through the clouds. We spent an hour here, where an arched wooden foot bridge carries the trail around a tiny cove.

The snow capped hills above Lake Crescent.

This was the only remainder of the railroad around the north shore of Lake Crescent.

Behind the Wal-Mart in Aberdeen homeless people fish for salmon in the bottle neck of Grey's Harbor.

We spent an entire day with our couch surfing host and new good friend, Stephen. He took the day off work to show us around Aberdeen, feed us, introduce us to his friends, and entertain us for hours with hysterical and often terrifying stories. We love this guy.

We spent another day transferring between countless county buses in attempt to catch up with the weather. The drivers tend to hate us because the bike racks only hold two bikes and we have to convince them of our method of tying the third bike between the others. We spent hours in the backs of buses ranting on and on about the nature of universal truth and the instinctual values of everything. Nothing was resolved.

This morning we left Seaside, where we kept ourselves warm watching the wind and hail from the windows of a fancy resort on the beach. Stephen's Dad and Stepmom invited us to spend a couple nights with them and we jumped at the chance. Yesterday was a very strange day. We spent hours lounging in the pool and hot tub, and taking leisurely rides down the beach. Mike and I even took a free wine tasting class. The whole time Patti was trying to fatten us up, feeding us fantastic portions of delicious food (steak, cookies, bacon and eggs, etc). We can hardly express how grateful we are for their hospitality.